


save me from the stories in my skin

by realcasually



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Ruby & Sapphire & Emerald | Pokemon Ruby Sapphire Emerald Versions
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Female Character of Color, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realcasually/pseuds/realcasually
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was inspired mostly by late-night writing fever, but it IS a headcanon of mine that Courtney underwent fairly hefty abuse as a child, and she still has problems stemming from that. Still, the power of love and buff sea punk girlfriends seems to be helping her cope, so at least we still have that.</p><p>And Shelly TOTALLY threw a guy out of the Devon Corp. window after he disagreed with her theory. Fight me on this.</p></blockquote>





	save me from the stories in my skin

You c

You can tell a lot about somebody by the kinds of scars they have. Not in the way that one might first assume: true, someone who works over an open flame will certainly come away with at least one burn, but the ironic thing about scars is that they are so much more than skin deep.

 

For Shelly, they were badges of pride, with a story in each one.

 

“This one?” she’d say as she glances at Courtney’s pale finger stark against her dark, toned shoulder. “That’s from when I got thrown out a window. Only the first floor, though.” And her eyes would glimmer like a starlit ocean and she’d add with a laugh “but I threw _him_ off the second.”

 

And Courtney would giggle too and hang from her back, snug against her, pecking her cheek and Shelly would share her daredevil tales well into the cool night.

 

But if Shelly’s were stories elegantly sewn in the tapestry of her skin, Courtney’s messy, jagged stitching was struggling to hold together a far-less artistic mural with white, patchy thread.

 

Her clothing was always so loose and long, sweaters and hoodies and long, long coats even in the burning heat. It wasn’t often that Shelly saw the bare, pale flesh but when she did (an ill-timed head crooning around a doorway, a pointless knock as she called for her girlfriend “We’re gonna be… late…”) she’d frown, reach out, brushing cool hands over the waxy jagged patched that never quite healed, and ask to hear a story for once.

 

Courtney never wanted to tell those stories. But hey eyes said it all, and she’d sniff silently, tears rolling gently down an impassive face, and they’d cling to each other so Shelly could whisper softly in her ear “if anybody tries to hurt you again, THEY’LL be the ones walking away with scars,” and Courtney would just nod and close her eyes, and sometimes, just sometimes, ask Shelly to tell her a story.

 

Not all stories are good ones: some people wear scars of pride and others hide scars of shame. And sometimes when these people meet (a tall, tanned goddess of the ocean who wore tales like badges and a small, lilac-haired girl with the brain of a computer and a stitched-up patchwork tapestry) they can make better stories together, so one can remember, and the other forget.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired mostly by late-night writing fever, but it IS a headcanon of mine that Courtney underwent fairly hefty abuse as a child, and she still has problems stemming from that. Still, the power of love and buff sea punk girlfriends seems to be helping her cope, so at least we still have that.
> 
> And Shelly TOTALLY threw a guy out of the Devon Corp. window after he disagreed with her theory. Fight me on this.


End file.
